I Will Always Return
by ReadingWhiz89
Summary: [Revamped] As Vash returns from his battle with Knives, he thinks about his reason for coming back. Namely, someone. Oneshot. VxM


Disclaimer: Trigun belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow. I am a lowly peon compared to him so how could I possibly own something as great as Trigun?

A/N: Ok, after removing the song "I Will Always Return" (which is where the title comes from) from the fic, I have decided to post this fic AGAIN. Hopefully, Fanfiction will not ban me again. –looks around suspiciously- If you want to read the full version, go to my MediaMiner account. You'll like it, I promise.

By the way, this fic is a different take on the last part of the prologue of _Life Thereafter_. (If you haven't read it, go read it now!) It's Vash's POV. It's just a one-shot, though. I'm not gonna rewrite the whole fic.

Now, enough of my blathering! On to the story!

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I Will Always Return

The twin suns radiated heat and light down upon the sandy ground. Iles upon iles of desert in all directions.

Except the one.

A tall man in a dark-colored body suit, golden blond hair spiked up, his aqua eyes squinting against the blazing light of the desert. Over his shoulder was slung another man, also tall (when standing) with pale blond hair and arctic blue eyes, closed to the brightness surrounding him. He was unconscious.

The golden blond wiped his brow, shoulders aching from the gunshot wounds he had earlier recieved from the one slung over his shoulder. Yet, he didn't think of that. Instead, his thoughts turned to something else. Or rather, some_one_.

_Her..._

The golden blond smiled wistfully, shifting his burden slightly. Her. The woman he cared for more than anything. She had been there for him through so much. Even after all the hellish experiences they had come through together, she had not run away. She had remained steadfast and true.

_I don't deserve her. But...I hope she might think differently._

_Her soft, black hair gleams in the sunlight. Her violet eyes shimmer when they look at me. Her small form, so delicate._

I long to hold her.

He lifted his gaze from the desert sands and looked forward, bringing his free arm up in order to shield his eyes from the mid-day suns. There was no path through the desert. Only miles upon miles of sand, grit, dust, and heat. Yet, the golden blond continued on, for there was a beacon at the end of his journey. Someone waiting for him.

He hoped...

Trudge, trudge, trudge. Step after careful step. He walked. He had something to go back to. He didn't want to think about the possibility that he had nothing. He wanted to have direction, a place to go. And someone to return to.

_I miss the way she used to look at me, especially in the last few days. She didn't look at me as just another of her assignments. She gazed at me as though I meant something to her._

At least, that's what he hoped. He couldn't bear it if he was decieving himself.

Hot wind blew into him, sand scraping at his face. The golden blond coughed and sputtered, wiping the grit from his face and eyes, trying to spit the grit out of his mouth.

After clawing at his face for a few minutes, the golden blond was mostly free from the sand. Yet, he then realized it had gathered in more uncomfortable places. His wounds were probably going to be infected by the time he got back. Hopefully, his punishment from her wouldn't be too severe for allowing that to happen.

He smiled wistfully again. His thoughts kept drifting to her. Everything about her. He just wanted to reach out and hold her. He wanted to tell her how much he cared. And he did care. He wanted to tell her that the only reason he had been able to go on and win the final battle was because she had been there. For him.

_That's why I have to continue on until I reach my destination._

The long walk continued. The golden blond kept up his pace, determined. Even when he lost his footing in unstable sand, he always got to his feet again and moved on.

Movement.

Step.

After careful step.

He drew closer each time he put one foot in front of the other. He focused his mind upon each step, knowing if he dwelt on how long the journey was, he'd never make it back.

And he had to make it back. For himself. For her.

For them.

Because if there was no "them", no "they" between him and her, he wondered: _Where would I be? How could I keep going on, knowing there was no reason to continue?_

The twin suns began to set, flooding the horizon with shades upon shades of color. The golden blond slowed his pace slightly to admire the view. The colors complemented the deserts sands so well.

It was breath-taking.

A few minutes later, the golden blond's gaze fell upon a small town sitting on the not-so-distant horizon. His heart leaped at the sight.

He resumed his pace, walking even faster than he had before. He ignored the grit grinding against him in uncomfortable places. He ignored the dry, parched feeling of his mouth and lips. He ignored the aches and pains from his wounds. He ignored the weight of his brother over his shoulder.

The one he had come home for was waiting.

The last leg of the journey flew by as his feet almost grew wings in his haste to be back. As he entered town, the first thing he noticed was water droplet shimmering in the suns' rays.

They were falling.

He opened his mouth, catching some of the cool liquid with his tongue. It was clean and refreshing. He soon became soaked, his spiky hair drooping slightly, but he found he didn't mind. It was a nice feeling.

He began looking for her, his head turning this way an that, searching. It didn't take long for him to spot her next to her brown-haired partner.

Her face was turned towards the heavens, eyes closed as the water slid down her soft features. Her clothes, also drenched, clung to her, accenting her slender form.

He gazed at her, eyes drinking in every detail of her. As if sensing his gaze, she opened her eyes, turning her violet gaze upon him. She looked a bit surprised to see him. He smiled...

...and walked towards her.

Her partner was the first one to reach him. Millie Thompson chatted with him for a few minutes before relieving him of his burden and returning to the house with his prone brother. He grinned a goofy grin.

Then, he turned his attention back to her, the reason why he had returned. He strode over to her. She didn't move. It was as though she was waiting for him.

When he reacher her, she smiled. "Welcome back," she said.

He grinned. "It's good to be back."

"I take it you were successful?"

His expression clouded over a little. "Yes, I won the fight. However, the battle won't be won until I can reform my brother."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "So, what happened to the red coat?"

Vash smiled again. "I didn't need it anymore."

She blinked. "Oh."

A few comments later, Vash the Stampede found himself being pushed unceremoniously into the house, a certain Meryl Stryfe lecturing him over how he had let his wounds become infected.

Vash grinned (despite his whiny protests), although Meryl could not see it. He had missed her. He had missed everything about her, her scent, her face, her small and often formidable form. The danger of his genocidal brother Millions Knives loomed over him, but right now, he didn't want to think about that.

He was back with Meryl, the one to whom he would always return.

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